Paralysis
by Tweeter
Summary: A team member is down. Who tried to kill him, and why? Chapter 9 is up. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: _I don't own the characters from the show. This story is for entertainment purposes only, no money is being made.

A/N: It seems I can't break the habit of putting Tony through the wringer, so I'm trying a different style of writing. This story is complete and a chapter will be posted each day. Thanks go to Rinne for cleaning up the punctuation and helping with the tense in the last part. Any punctuation errors are probably in sections I added after she checked the story. Thanks to Kate for helping me when I wasn't sure how the story was going.

**Chapter One **

I don't know what happened. One minute I was answering the door to pay for my pizza, the next I was on my back, and not in a good way; there was no beautiful woman in sight. I recognized the pizza delivery guy, young kid, so I was caught off guard when the two guys muscled past him. I felt a prick on my neck, and bam, I was down.

Things are a blur after that. I remember being dragged into my living room. Then I heard someone begging not to be hurt and I realized it was the kid. I struggled to move - yell, do something, but it was like I was encased in cement. I couldn't even close my eyes. The goons never said a word, at least not that I heard. There was a shot and no more begging. The bastards shot him. The next thing I heard was the door closing and then there was nothing.

I don't know how long I've been lying here, but my eyeballs feel like they're drying out. I wonder how long it'll be before someone checks up on me. I'm not due in to the office until the morning; thank God it's not the weekend. Yeah, but how long will it be before Gibbs gets pissed and sends someone over? And what did they give me to paralyze me like this? Maybe it's progressive, maybe pretty soon it'll paralyze my lungs and I'll suffocate.

Wait a minute. I can't tell if I'm breathing. Maybe I'm dead. Maybe this is what death is like, no white light, no chorus of angels; things just stop. The Sisters at the boarding school would be upset to hear that.

Someone's knocking on the door. For some reason the Wings song comes to mind. I start singing it in my head – 'Someone's knocking at the door; somebody's ringing the bell...' – except no one's ringing my doorbell, just knocking. No, make that pounding on the door. I can hear Gibbs calling my name. Finally, I'm so happy I could cry. I think I may be crying, but there are no tears. I can hear the door being kicked in. Great, the building management is going to love that. I hear Gibbs yelling clear, then Ziva and McGee letting him know that the other rooms are clear too.

I still can't move, so I can't turn my head to look at them. Gibbs' face moves into my line of sight. The look on his face – it's just like it was on the roof, when Kate was killed. He says my name and I swear his voice cracks a little. I can feel his fingers on my neck, checking for a pulse. McGee says his name, his voice sounds like he's about to cry. Gibbs never takes his eyes off me; he looks older all of a sudden. I can barely hear his voice, it's so soft and sad, but he tells McGee that I'm dead.

I'm not dead! Gibbs, look at me. Look into my eyes. You have to see – I'm still alive. I hear him tell McGee to call Ducky. Ziva comes up behind Gibbs. She looks really pissed. She tells Gibbs that the pizza delivery kid is dead. Gibbs is still next to me. He can't take his eyes off me and I can't look anyplace other than his face. I see Ziva look at me and I think a see flash of emotion, something behind the anger - grief, maybe, but then she pulls the mask in place. She starts to reach over to close my eyes but he stops her and tells her not to touch me. He tells McGee to get the camera and start shooting the scene. He tells Ziva to go wait for Ducky and Palmer and bring them up to my place.

It's just the two of us now. I wish Gibbs had let Ziva close my eyes, they feel like sandpaper. Plus, I can't stand the look on his face. He looks so tired; it's killing me to see his emotions out in the open, so raw and painful. I knew he liked me, even if he didn't show it; tough old Marine. I didn't know he cared this much; that he would get so broken up if something happened to me. I didn't think anyone would care that much. He's talking to me, so softly that I can't make out all the words. I strain to hear what he's saying and can't believe my ears. He's apologizing for not protecting me. I don't know what he thinks he could have done, but I don't want him blaming himself for this. He's got to know how important he was to me, how big a role he's played in my life.

Okay, now I'm talking about my life in the past tense. You're not dead, DiNozzo, snap out of it. Somehow Gibbs will see that you're still alive. Try moving your fingers and toes. Try blinking. Try anything; don't just lie there like a, well, a corpse. I don't think my attempts to move are working, because Gibbs doesn't show any sign of noticing anything. I hear Ziva come in with Ducky and Palmer.

Ducky's face moves into view and he's incredibly sad. "Oh, Tony," he says softly. "Who's taken you from us?"

"I need a time of death, Ducky."

Ducky moves out of my line of sight and I feel someone pull my shirt up. Then there's this white-hot pain in my stomach – he stabbed me, he stuck that liver probe into me. I want to scream but I can't. It hurts just as much when he pulls it out.

"It must have just happened, his temperature is almost normal."

"I want to know what killed him, Ducky,"

"Of course, I'll start the autopsy right away."

Autopsy? Oh my God, Ducky's going to cut into me and I'm not even dead yet. I will be, though, when he takes my heart out to weigh it and inspect it. I don't even want to imagine what that's going to feel like; getting stabbed with the liver probe was bad enough. Now I'm getting really scared and desperate. I have to find a way to let them know I'm still alive or Ducky's going to kill me.

Finally Ducky closes my eyes, but now I don't want him to. I want to see what they're doing, where I'm going. I hear plastic rustling next to my head and I assume that Palmer's laying out the body bag.

"Doctor Mallard?" Jimmy's voice is loud, almost a yell. "He's bleeding."

"What?" I hear Ducky's voice closer to me. "Get me a stethoscope." I hear Palmer rush off.

"What is it, Duck?" Gibbs' voice is anxious.

"The hole from the liver probe is oozing blood." Ducky's voice is grim. "If his heart had stopped there would be no fresh blood moving." I feel my shirt being torn open and something cold is placed on my chest.

"You mean he's alive?" McGee sounds amazed.

"Shhhh, I need to listen." There's silence, and then Ducky sighs, "There's a very faint heart beat. It's extremely slow and weak, but it's there. We have to get him to hospital immediately."

I'm so relieved, but I still can't cry. I let myself drift off to sleep, listening to Gibbs' voice saying, "You're going to be all right, Tony. Just hang in there, you're going to be fine."


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for all the reviews. Wow, you folks are bloodthirsty! ;) Regarding the liver probe issue - I plead dramatic license. I wanted Tony, and the readers, to see how everyone would react if he were killed without actually killing him (been there, done that). I wanted a dramatic - 'he's **not** dead!" moment. And remember, Tony's lying there with his eyes open and pupils dilated, looking remarkably like Kate - sans the bullet hole in the forehead and pool of blood under his head. Gibbs is human, after all. For future reference, the medical aspects of this story are minimally researched. If I couldn't find something that produced exactly what I wanted, I improvised. I'm not The Discovery Health Channel... although I did get an idea for Maiden Voyage from a show one day._

**Chapter Two**

The two men sit quietly, watching the figure on the bed. There are tubes and wires attached to the pale body, administering fluid and oxygen. The monitors are beeping steadily.

"I could have killed him, Jethro," Ducky's voice is low.

"You didn't, Ducky," Gibbs said firmly. "You heard the heartbeat. You saved his life."

"I stabbed him in the stomach," Ducky argued. "If his heart hadn't been beating so slowly he could have bled out. And if that didn't kill him, I almost cut him open and removed his internal organs."

"But you didn't," Gibbs said, looking the distraught man in the eye. "Tony is going to be all right, thanks to you."

"Thanks to Mr. Palmer," Ducky corrected. "If he hadn't noticed the bleeding..."

"I'm sure you would have noticed before things went too far," Gibbs interrupted.

"Of course I would have," Ducky agreed sarcastically. "After I had cut open his chest, or after I cut out his ribs to get to his heart. Perhaps I would have noticed his heart beating, without those pesky ribs in the way."

"Ducky," Gibbs admonished, "stop. You didn't do any of that. You stuck a liver probe into him. I'm sure Tony will forgive you for that, especially since that's what caused the bleeding and that's how you knew he was still alive."

"Who would do such a thing?" Ducky asked, rising and moving to Tony's bedside. He looked down into the pale face and shivered at what might have happened. Gibbs came up behind him and put his hand on Ducky's shoulder.

"I don't know," he replied grimly. "But we're going to find out. They'll pay for this, Ducky."

"Do you think they'll try to finish him off?" Ducky asked.

"As far as anyone is concerned, Tony is dead," Gibbs replied.

Ducky nodded in understanding. "That's why he's in quarantine, not ICU."

"We'll put a guard on him, just in case," Gibbs continued. "No one's getting to him again. How long will it take for the effects of the drug to wear off?"

Ducky shook his head. "I don't know," he replied. "We still don't know exactly what was injected into him. I'm having Abby test a sample of his blood, in addition to the lab here at the hospital. Right now we're just trying to flush it out of his system, but we won't know if there's any permanent damage until he wakes up and we can perform neurological tests. We don't even know if he'll wake up. His CAT scan and EEG appear normal, but there might be damage at a deeper level."

"He'll wake up," Gibbs replied. "If he knows what's good for him." He leaned down and spoke into Tony's ear, "Did you hear that, DiNozzo? You _will_ wake up. And make it quick, we need you." He squeezed the younger agent's shoulder briefly, then turned and left the room, leaving Ducky to sit with Tony.

oOoOoOo

The squad room was somber, the absence of one team member changing the atmosphere drastically. It felt strange, not having Tony joking around or harassing Ziva or McGee. Not having his instincts or insights in this investigation was a stark reminder at how valuable he was to the team. Gibbs was more abrupt than usual, barking out orders and demanding answers from his harried team. The mood wasn't helped by the steady stream of agents coming to give their condolences and offering to help find DiNozzo's killer. Only the people who were in Tony's apartment knew he was still alive. The only exception, other than the Director, was Abby - Gibbs couldn't let her believe that Tony was dead. He knew he could trust her to help keep up the charade.

Even though Tony wasn't dead, having agents express their sympathy and their anger at his murder worsened Gibbs' mood. He could still see what he thought was Tony's dead body, lying on the floor, his blank eyes staring out at nothing. He didn't know if Tony was aware of what was happening around him. Knowing how hyperactive DiNozzo was, Gibbs was sure that the younger man was probably going crazy, not being able to move or talk. While Tony was relatively safe in the quarantine unit at the hospital, Ducky's words still rang in his ears. There was a possibility that Tony would never regain consciousness, or he could be permanently disabled. The thought of losing his senior field agent made Gibbs angrier. After his third blow-up in the squad room, the Director came down and told him that he and his team were to take time off. Gibbs and the other agents were furious, but the Director was adamant, insisting that they leave the investigation to a team less emotionally involved.

There was a tense silence as Gibbs and the Director faced off. Jen was relieved when she saw the realization in Gibbs' eyes. They both knew that nothing would keep the team off the case, but if they investigated "unofficially" they would no longer be under the watchful, though sympathetic, eyes of their fellow agents. Gibbs conveyed his thanks to Jen silently, and she smiled at the gratitude in his eyes.

"Ziva, McGee," he barked. "Let's go." Gibbs stalked out of the squad room, closely followed by the two younger agents. Ziva started to say something but Gibbs cut her off with a look. The three got on to the elevator and headed down to the parking garage. Before they reached the lower level, Gibbs flipped the switch and the elevator stopped.

"How could you let her take us off the case?" McGee asked accusingly. "Somebody tried to kill Tony, _we_ should be the ones trying to get the creeps. No one's as good as we are."

"That's true," Gibbs agreed. "We're the best, and we're still investigating, we just won't be as visible."

"Will Jenny let us continue?" Ziva asked.

"She knows better than to try to stop us," Gibbs replied. "She's giving us freedom we wouldn't have with the other agents trying to help."

"Oh," McGee looked embarrassed. "Sorry, Boss. I guess I overreacted."

"You didn't overreact, McGee," Gibbs said. "You had the exact reaction I would hope you'd have when it came to protecting a team member. Tony would have loved to have heard that." The corner of his mouth quirked slightly. "Don't worry, I won't tell him."

McGee grinned. "Thanks, Boss. I'd never hear the end of it."

"You still won't," Ziva said, smiling mischievously.

"Great," McGee said, rolling his eyes.

Gibbs started the elevator. "Let's go see what Abby's got."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

There's a steady buzzing around me and I'm afraid I'm being attacked by a swarm of killer bees. I try to open my eyes, but realize that I still can't move. This is really starting to get old. I mentally shake my head to clear it and the buzzing soon turns into a voice. It's Ducky, talking to me, probably to try to wake me up – but with his stories, that's not the usual result. That was kind of mean of me, what with Ducky sitting next to me keeping me company. Now I feel bad and start to listen to what he's saying.

"... she really is a lovely girl, Mother loves her. Diane is very patient, so that makes her the perfect caregiver. She takes Mother on outings, unlike some of the other nurses who just babysat. Although the other day she and Mother were in a mall and they passed by a pet shop..."

Oh no, a story about Mrs. Mallard. Couldn't he be telling me about one of his adventures as a youth? You should be ashamed of yourself, Anthony. Ducky is spending his time sitting next to your bed and you're complaining about his choice of subject matter. Mrs. Mallard is a nice old lady, even if she's a bit dangerous around sharp objects. Shut up and listen, and try to move something.

"... fell in love with a Birman kitten. I mean, really, we've got a house full of dogs already and she wants a kitten. Granted, the breed is beautiful and very friendly, good companions; I did some research on them. Their features look like Himalayans, but one distinction is that all Birmans have white socks. There's a wonderful folk tale about the breed. It seems that all the temple cats, Birmans were temple cats, you know; anyway the temple cats used to be pure white..."

I like cats, but they don't like me. So, while I _like_ them, I'm a little wary of them. Funny, they say men are dog people and women are cat people. Anyway, I like 'em both. I always wanted a dog, but dogs would mess up the house and that just wasn't allowed. I'm surprised my parents had any kids at all - kids are pretty messy too. Then again, that's probably the reason why they only had me; they learned their lesson the hard way. I'm never around enough to give a dog the care and attention it needs. I suppose I could have a cat, they're more independent. Still, they need some attention, and there's that whole not liking me thing, but I bet we could get around that. It would be nice to come home and have something glad that I'm back. Wow, that sounded really pathetic.

"... the cat placed its paws on the body of the dead monk and its body turned golden, but its paws remained white, thus explaining the appearance of the breed. Charming tale, I must say I was pleased to find that story. That doesn't mean I'm sold on Mother getting a kitten, mind you. I know who will end up taking care of the blasted thing – me and Diane. Then again, Mother does clean up after the girls when they do their duty in the garden..."

I feel like I'm in the movie _Coma_. I wonder if all those people strung up from the ceiling could hear and feel what was going on around them. What other movies had people lying around like vegetables? Now that I think of it, this is more like a voodoo movie. _The Believers_, now that was a creepy flick. Martin Sheen before he became President but after he went to Vietnam. There's _The Serpent and the Rainbow_, oh and _Dead Alive_, now that was a great movie, directed by Peter Jackson before he became famous with the _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy. Hey, my nose itches. I can't move my fingers, let alone scratch my nose. Damn, this is going to drive me crazy.

"... would be nice to have a purring cat sitting in my lap while I read. You know, Tony, I think I may have talked myself into getting a cat for Mother. What do you think about that? Tony? Do you have an itch?"

Yes! Please scratch my nose. Please, please _please_.

"I can see your nose twitching. Here, let me get that for you. This is wonderful, Tony. You just keep trying to move any part of your body that you can. Can you squeeze my fingers? Come, try a little harder, you can do it."

I can feel him wrap my hand around his fingers and I squeeze with every ounce of energy I can muster. I don't know if it's working, though, so I concentrate harder.

"Excellent, Tony! I felt just a slight bit of pressure..."

_Slight_ pressure? If I were normal I would have broken his fingers.

"... You should make faster progress once the toxin is removed completely from your body. Just keep your spirits up and don't stop trying. We're all here for you."

Even though I didn't really do anything, I feel exhausted. I decide that I should sleep and maybe when I wake up I'll find out this is all some horrible nightmare. Ducky's voice fades back to the buzzing sound and I drift off.

oOoOoOo

Gibbs and the rest of his team were gathered in Abby's lab. They knew they were safe from prying eyes, at least for the time being. People would get suspicious if they stayed onsite for very long, and Abby did have other cases she needed to work on; though it was assumed that Tony's case would take priority on her to-do list, and no one would dare argue with her about that.

"We have a few partial prints from Tony's place," Abby said. "But so far, no matches." She bit her bottom lip. "Sorry, Gibbs."

"That's okay, Abs," Gibbs said. "Have you figured out what they injected into him?"

"Sort of," Abby replied, turning back to her computer and pulling up some graphs. "I found traces of Tetrodotoxin, that's the poison from puffer fish, but it's mixed in with something else I haven't been able to identify yet. Can I go sit with Tony? I can monitor my tests remotely."

"When we're finished here you can relieve Ducky," Gibbs agreed. "McGee, did you get anything off the security tape from Tony's building?"

McGee shook his head. "We can see when the pizza delivery guy arrived, but there's nothing suspicious about him or anyone else coming into the building."

"There had to be more than one assailant to overpower Tony," Gibbs said. "They got into the building somehow, find out how. Who made the 911 call?"

"They didn't call 911, they called NCIS directly," Ziva replied. "It was anonymous, someone called in using a no-name cell phone and reported hearing a gunshot."

"Do we have a tape of the call?"

"Yes." McGee turned and punched some keys, pulling up the requested sound file.

A muffled voice said, "I want to report gunshots from Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo's apartment. I think he's dead, you better send someone."

"They knew Tony's name and who he works for," McGee said. "It could be personal."

"McGee, go through Tony's old cases, see if anyone's been released since the last time we had to do this."

"Chip's still in jail," Abby said. "I checked that first thing."

Gibbs smiled. "Good girl, that's one down. Whoever did this didn't just want to kill Tony, they wanted him to suffer."

"What do you mean?" Ziva asked.

"Ducky and the other doctors believe that Tony is aware of what's going on around him, but can't speak or move."

"What if Ducky had started an autopsy?" Abby asked.

"He probably would have felt every cut of the scalpel," Gibbs replied grimly. "I want the sadists that did this to him. McGee, look for anyone that has a background in medicine or chemistry, or marine biology. Ziva, you and I will go over the scene again and see if we can find anyone who saw or heard something. Abby, see if you can coax Tony into waking up."

Abby saluted. "I'm on it, Bossman. I'll get a reaction out of Tony." She grinned at the rest of them.

"Try not to get yourself thrown out, Abs," Gibbs warned. "And don't start something you can't finish."

"Never, Gibbs."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Gibbs and Ziva spent the afternoon interviewing Tony's neighbors. They were a diverse group, ranging in age from late twenties to early seventies, of varied ethnic backgrounds. They all had one thing in common: they adored Tony.

Mrs. Barbetti, a slightly-deaf widow in her sixties, lived next door. She was concerned when she saw all the police activity and was very upset to hear that her dear Antonio was dead. Through her tears she explained that she was watching television when the attack occurred, wearing special headphones so she could hear the program without disturbing her neighbors, and she had no useful information for the agents.

Chrissy Spector and Angie Bradley were two airline hostesses that lived across the hall from Tony. Both had been out of town on flights the night of the attack. Everett Rockwell was a retired police officer who lived down the hall. He and Tony had spent a few evenings discussing police work over beer and pizza. He thought the young agent seemed to be a sharp investigator who loved listening to his old war stories about his days on the force.

"So you're Gibbs," he said, eyeing the older agent speculatively. "I've heard a lot about you. To hear Tony talk, you'd think you were omniscient."

Gibbs chuckled wryly. "Tony has a tendency to exaggerate," he said.

Everett laughed. "Yeah, especially about his love life. If he was getting as much as he said, he wouldn't have the energy to lift his head, much less anything else."

Ziva snorted inelegantly. "Oh, sorry," she said, with no sign of apology in her expression.

Rockwell turned serious. "You have any idea who killed him?" he asked.

"We're going over all the evidence," Gibbs replied. "But we don't have much to go on. Do you recall seeing or hearing anything unusual the night of the murder? Anything at all?"

Everett looked pensive. "I was coming home from League Night – bunch of retired cops formed a team and joined a bowling league – around 10:30 that night. When I was coming around the corner I heard someone say something about dumping a phone."

Gibbs' eyes narrowed. "Did you see who was talking?" he asked.

The older man shook his head. "Not clearly. It was dark, they were about 30 feet away and my eyes aren't so good at night. I think I heard one guy call the other one 'Mike'. They were both about six feet tall, husky, like football players. Sorry," he said apologetically, "that's the best I can give you."

"You've given us more than we had before to work with," Gibbs replied.

"Tony was a good man," Everett said solemnly. "I hope you catch those guys and put a major hurt on 'em."

"I intend to," Gibbs replied seriously, reaching to shake Rockwell's hand. "Thank you, for everything."

The two men shook hands. Rockwell nodded politely to Ziva as he showed the two agents out of his apartment.

oOoOoOo

"...you need to get some rest yourself, Ducky. You look terrible, in a manly, dashing way, of course."

I hear Ducky chuckle. "Thank you, Abby. I must admit I'm exhausted, but I'm loath to leave Tony's side. He moved a little before, I want to help pull him out of this stupor."

"Why don't you just lie down on that other bed over there and grab some z's. I'll sit and talk to Tony and if he makes any moves, I'll call you. I promise."

I struggle to open my eyes, and I think I see a sliver of light. I work harder and nearly jump out of my skin, if I were able to move, when Abby lets out an excited squeal.

"TONY! Ducky, his eyes are open! Tony, can you see me? Can you hear me?"

I feel my hand being held tightly and I try to focus on her voice. Everything is all fuzzy, like there's a layer of petroleum jelly on my eyeballs. I try blinking, but it doesn't clear anything up. I tighten my grip on Abby's hand, to show her I know it's her.

"Oh Tony, I was so worried. Gibbs is all growly and Ziva looks like she'd kill the first person that looks at her funny. Timmy's all 'Are you okay Abs?' trying to be protective, but I think he needs some hugging too. You scared all of us. Ducky's about to fall over in his tracks, but he's being stubborn."

"Now, Abby, I'm not that tired. I believe I've got my second wind; the excitement of seeing Tony open his eyes has my adrenaline pumping. Tony, can you understand us? Blink twice for yes, three times for no."

"That's a lot of blinks, Ducky, he just woke up. Why not once for yes and twice for no?"

"But if he just blinks to clear his eyes we'll think he's saying yes to a question..."

"Not if we haven't asked one, though, and anyway, how can he blink 'no' if he can't understand; I mean, if he doesn't understand us he can't know to say no, you know? You're really tired, Ducky."

I think they've forgotten I'm here. Really, those two could talk the spots off a leopard. Where did I come up with that; is that a saying? While the two of them argue about how many blinks I should make, I try to move other parts of my body, but other than being able to close my hand, nothing seems to be cooperating. I'm suddenly struck by a feeling of panic. What if this is all I can move? What if I'm stuck here, my body wasting away while my mind takes note of every lost minute? A small whimper escapes my throat; well, my vocal cords are starting to work, at least. Maybe I'll be able to communicate, ask someone to put me out of my misery if I stay like this.

"Oh Tony, don't be upset." Abby starts petting my head and crooning soothing words.

"Tony, please try to stay positive." Ducky's trying to comfort me too - I feel like a baby. "You've made good progress since you were brought in to hospital. It will take time and patience, but you're going to recover. You have to believe that."

"We'll help you, Tony." Abby's practically crawled into bed with me. This is nice, actually. She's warm and soft and she's changed perfumes to something light with a hint of something I can't quite place. It's not gunpowder; it smells kind of nutty. Not nutty crazy, but nutty like peanuts... no, almonds. Wait a minute, is that cyanide? I mentally shake my head, that's my Abs, unconventional is too straight laced a word for her.

I spend the next few hours trying to move various body parts, with Abby playing the role of manic cheerleader. She stops to check her test results via her laptop periodically. I can hear Ducky snoring softly off in the other side of the room. The activity and company is making me feel better. I may not be moving or talking, but I'm pretty sure I will be soon if for no other reason than to take the Caf Pow away from an overcaffeinated Abby.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Gibbs' house had become the center of operations for their investigation. McGee set up a couple of laptops in the dining room and was busily trying to track down anyone from Tony's past with experience in medicine, chemistry or marine biology. He was frustrated when his search turned up nothing. Gibbs and Ziva were going over their notes from the interviews they conducted.

"There's nothing here, Gibbs," Ziva said, sitting back in her chair tiredly.

"We're missing something," Gibbs said, his eyes sweeping over the papers and photos scattered on the table.

"What?" Ziva asked, waving her hands at the evidence. "We've gone over the photos and witness interviews with a boar bristle brush. There's nothing there."

Gibbs looked at her blankly for a moment. "You mean fine-tooth comb?"

"You people are entirely too focused on my use of the English language," Ziva replied, annoyed. "You know what I mean."

"McGee," Gibbs turned to the younger agent, "any leads on possible suspects?"

McGee shook his head. "Sorry, Boss," he replied. "There's nothing on this end either."

Gibbs pushed his chair back angrily and stood up. "Come on, people, think," he said impatiently. "Somebody got into Tony's apartment somehow, drugged him and shot the pizza delivery kid. We have partial prints and a witness who saw two possible suspects."

"Maybe Tony can identify who attacked him," McGee said.

Gibbs nodded. "Maybe," he agreed, "but right now he can't tell us anything, can he?"

"Abby said he can blink his eyes," McGee replied. "Maybe he can answer yes or no questions about the attack."

Gibbs stopped pacing and glared at McGee. "When did you get this insignificant piece of information, McGee?"

McGee looked embarrassed. "Sorry, Boss. I called Abby to find out if she got any results from her tests and she told me Tony had opened his eyes."

"And did she?"

"Not yet," McGee replied.

Gibbs grabbed his car keys. "I'm going to see if I can get any information from Tony," he said on his way out. "You two go back to Tony's place and see if we missed anything."

oOoOoOo

"... he's been working hard to try to move, Gibbs, he's exhausted."

"We mustn't overtax him, Jethro. It could harm rather than help his recovery."

"I just need to see if he can give us any information about the men who attacked him, Ducky. Simple yes or no answers, that's all."

I open my eyes to see Gibbs standing at the foot of my bed, with Abby and Ducky on either side of him. He looks a lot better than the last time I saw him. He's got that look in his eyes when he's onto something. He sees my eyes are open and smiles at me.

"Hey, Tony. You can't do anything halfway, can you?"

I try to smile, and I think a corner of my mouth moves. Ducky was right, things are starting to get better, but I'm still afraid that every new movement will be my last. Gibbs comes around to the side of the bed and turns my head towards him.

"Tony, we need your help finding who did this to you. Did you see who attacked you? Blink once for yes, twice for no."

"That's twice for yes, three times for no, Jethro. We wanted to make sure we didn't mistake normal blinking for an affirmative."

"But Ducky, I thought that we decided that would be too much blinking. Once for yes, twice for no makes more sense."

"Well, maybe if he squeezes your hand when he blinks once for yes..."

I can see the muscles in Gibbs' jaw start to twitch. I can tell he wants to yell, but Ducky and Abby are two people he would never yell at, or headslap, for that matter.

"Okay." Gibbs' voice is deceptively calm. "Tony, blink once and squeeze my hand for yes, blink twice for no. Can you do that?"

I blink and squeeze his hand.

"Good," he smiles at me reassuringly. "Did you get a look at who attacked you?" Two blinks. "Was there more than one person?" Blink and squeeze. "Were there more than two people?" Two blinks. "Okay, so there were two attackers." Blink and squeeze. "Did they say anything?" Two blinks. "Did they do anything to make you recognize them?" Two blinks. "Okay, were they tall?" Blink and squeeze. "Muscular or heavy?" Blink and squeeze. "Do you know anyone named Mike who might have a grudge against you?"

I have to think a moment. Gibbs is patient, watching my face. I blink twice, frowning slightly.

Gibbs sighs. "That's okay, Tony. It was a shot in the dark. You rest and regain your strength. Don't think you're going to be able to lie around here forever. Work's piling up on your desk."

"Everyone thinks he's dead, though, Gibbs."

Gibbs sees the surprise in my eyes and explains. "We don't know who tried to kill you, Tony, so we're keeping you under wraps in quarantine so no one tries to finish the job." He gives me an ironic grin. "You'd be touched to see the outpouring of grief for you. Just don't let it go to your head." I blink twice, and he chuckles.

"I talked to your neighbor, Rockwell. He seems like a good guy. He might have seen the two perps, maybe we can get something else out of him."

He signals for Ducky to walk with him to the door. Abby moves to take Gibbs' place at the side of my bed. She takes my hand and smiles brightly.

"Want to try talking some more?"

I blink twice.

"Tired?"

Blink and squeeze.

"Okay, you get some sleep, Tony. I'll be right here when you wake up"

I manage a quirk of a smile, close my eyes and promptly fall asleep.

oOoOoOo

"How's he doing, really, Ducky?" Gibbs asked.

"He seems to be improving, Jethro," Ducky replied. "It's slow, but with Tetrodotoxin the first twenty-four hours are crucial. He's well past that mark, so I don't think we need to worry about him dying."

"What about the paralysis, " Gibbs asked. "How much movement will he recover?"

Ducky shook his head. "That depends on the amount of the toxin and how strong Tony is. We still don't know what the other substance was, or if it will have a permanent effect. If things continue to progress as they have been, Tony could very well make a full recovery. Much of it depends on his will."

"He's strong," Gibbs said confidently. "He'll pull through this. There's no way he's going to let himself get stuck in a wheelchair or behind a desk."

"From your lips to God's ears," Ducky replied fervently. "I know he's a resilient young man, but this is particularly rough, physically and emotionally."

"He'll have plenty of support," Gibbs said, patting Ducky on the back. "I've got to get back. Don't let Abby wear him out, okay?"

Ducky chuckled. "I won't."

On his way back to his car, Gibbs called McGee for an update.

"There's nothing here, Boss," McGee said. "There's no sign of a struggle at all. There are drag marks where it looked like they dragged Tony from the door to the living room. They must have overpowered him right away."

"Okay, you and Ziva wait for me ," Gibbs said. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes. We'll try talking to Rockwell again, see if we can coax something out of his memory."

"Right, Boss, we'll be waiting for you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

I'm lying in the sunshine, it's warm on my face and I feel relaxed and peaceful. There's music coming from somewhere, soft and soothing. I hear voices, low and melodic. Someone's crying. I try to see who that is, but I can't. Gibbs is looking at me, his face is lined and there are dark circles under his eyes. His mouth is moving but I can't hear what he's saying. Oh my God, I'm deaf. When did that happen? He moves away and Abby comes up. She's crying. McGee's with her, he's got his arm around her shoulders and he looks like he's going to cry too. What the hell is going on? There's Ziva, she looks sad. She says something and puts a rose on my chest. Ducky's next, looking older than I've ever seen him look. I can't hear what he's saying either. Palmer is next to him. He doesn't say anything, but his puppy-dog eyes are bright and he looks like he's going to burst into tears any minute.

Gibbs reaches over above me and starts to pull something down. I realize I'm in a coffin and they're closing it. I try to scream, to yell I'm still alive, but I can't move or make a sound. I hear something hit the box and I realize they're shoveling dirt over the coffin. I struggle to move, to pound on the lid to get their attention. I'm trying to scream but nothing comes out. I can't breathe. I hear a shrill buzzing in my ears and I know I'm dying.

oOoOoOo

The monitors started blinking as a shrill alarm pierced the air. Abby and Ducky jumped up, moving quickly to Tony's bedside. The agent was breathing heavily, perspiration beading his face, his eyes moving rapidly under his closed lids.

A doctor and nurse rushed into the room. "What happened?"

"He's having an episode of some sort," Ducky declared anxiously, checking the monitors. "His pulse is racing and his blood pressure has shot up."

Doctor O'Hara checked the monitors. "Agent DiNozzo," he called loudly, trying to rouse the agitated agent. "Agent DiNozzo, wake up."

"Tony," Abby called anxiously. "Wake up, Tony. It's okay, you're safe." She took his hand in hers and began patting it.

Tony's eyelids fluttered, then opened.

oOoOoOo

I try to focus my eyes, to look for Abby. I know I heard her voice, but I can't see her anywhere. I blink rapidly, but I can't clear my eyes. I'm crying, damn it, and I can't catch my breath. I hear strange voices and see strange faces, but I'm looking for Abby and Ducky. I feel someone take my hand and start patting it. Using all my strength I turn my head to the side. I can barely move it, but it's enough for me to catch sight of Abby's sweet face. She looks upset and she's clutching my hand.

"Tony, please don't cry; you're going to be okay." I hate the look on her face and try to compose myself, but I can't. The dream has unlocked all the fear that's been building up inside me and it's pouring out of me. She gets into bed with me and pulls me to her chest, stroking my hair and rocking me as I cry silently and soak the front of her blouse. I hear Ducky's voice behind me and I assume it's his hand that's stroking my back. The doctor says something about not wanting to give me a sedative and he tells Abby to try to calm me down. She's trying, and so is Ducky, and I'm starting to breathe a little more easily.

I would never break down like this in front of Gibbs. At least I hope I never would. I can be open and honest with Ducky and Abby. I can show my weak side to them. I could never do that with Gibbs. It's not that he doesn't want to know about people's weaknesses, and it's not even that he'd look down on me for breaking down like this. It's just not something I want him to see me doing.

I've calmed down. It was a dream, that's all. I'm not dead. I can move a little, and I'm regaining feeling as time passes. I take a deep breath and relax.

"You okay, Tony?" I can't nod my head, but I can squeeze Abby's hand. She kisses the top of my head and gently moves out from under me, straightening the pillows for me.

"Rough dream, Tony?" Ducky looks concerned. I try to say something but only manage to croak. I am so sick of this.

"I know we're beginning to sound like broken records, but you're making remarkable progress. Just a little over thirty-six hours ago you appeared dead, with barely a heartbeat and almost no respiration. Now look at you: you're breathing on your own, your eyes are open and you can squeeze our hands. You even moved your head a little, and you can make sounds. It'll all come back to you, my boy. Just give your body time to recover."

"Listen to Ducky, Tony. He's a wise man." Abby's computer beeps and she rushes over to it. "I gotta call Gibbs," she says, and rushes out of the room.

"Well, I hope that's good news. Now Tony, shall we try moving our mouths? Say ahhhhhh…oooooh….. eeeeeee"

oOoOoOo

"That's good, Abs, thanks." Gibbs clicked his cell phone shut as he exited the car and headed for Tony's apartment. He opened the door and ducked under the crime scene tape.

"Ziva, McGee," Gibbs yelled. "Abby's identified one of the prints," he said as the two agents came in from the kitchen. "They belong to an ex-con by the name of David Greeley. Go find him and pick him up. Take him to headquarters, I'll meet you there."

"What about Rockwell?" McGee asked.

"I'll go talk to him," Gibbs replied.

Gibbs knocked on Rockwell's door, smiling when the ex-cop opened. "Mr. Rockwell, I'd like to ask you some more questions, see if I can jog your memory."

"Of course," Rockwell stepped back and motioned Gibbs to enter the apartment. "Can I get you some coffee?"

"Yes, please," Gibbs replied. He followed the older man into the kitchen. "You said you thought you saw two men outside the building, right?"

Rockwell nodded. "Yeah, out near the edge of the parking lot. The light's not good there."

"Did you see them drop the phone?"

Rockwell shook his head. "No, I just heard one of them tell the other one that they should get rid of it. You want cream or sugar?"

"Black, please." Rockwell handed Gibbs a steaming mug.

"Thank you ," Gibbs said, taking a sip of the strong brew. "Is there anything else you can remember about the two men; how they were dressed, did either of them limp or have a distinctive voice, did they have accents?"

Rockwell leaned back against the counter and looked thoughtful. "Well, one of them had some sort of accent. It might have been Hispanic. I'm sorry Agent Gibbs," he said regretfully, "I really didn't get close enough to them to get a good look."

"That's okay," Gibbs replied. "It was worth a try."

"They took two bodies out of Tony's apartment," Rockwell observed. "Who was the second victim?"

"Pizza delivery boy, Reggie Foster," Gibbs replied. "Wrong place, wrong time."

"Damn shame." Rockwell shook his head. "I wish I could help you catch the scum. Tony was a good guy, he shouldn't have died like that."

"No," Gibbs agreed, "he shouldn't have. Thanks for the coffee, Mr. Rockwell."

"Any time, Agent Gibbs," Rockwell said, walking Gibbs to the door. "You be sure to let me know when you catch the guys."

"I will."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Gibbs was about to get into the car when his cell phone rang. "Gibbs," he said gruffly.

"Boss," McGee's agitated voice boomed through the small phone. "Greeley's dead."

"What happened?"

"When Ziva and I got here the door was cracked open. We went into the apartment and it looks like a tornado ripped through the place. We found Greeley on the kitchen floor, shot twice in the back."

"Block off the scene," Gibbs said briskly. "I'll have Ducky and Palmer come out to pick up the body. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

Gibbs arrived at the scene fifteen minutes later, leaving a trail of angry commuters behind him. He entered the small, one-bedroom apartment to find Ziva and McGee processing the crime scene. Entering the kitchen, he knelt down next to the body of David Greeley. Greeley was a large man, built like a linebacker. His face was scarred and his nose broken from a lifetime of fighting. Gibbs sighed; one good lead to whoever tried to kill Tony and it ends up dead.

"It looks like he was trying to get to the kitchen knives," Ziva observed from the kitchen doorway, "but he didn't make it."

"No," Gibbs said, rising to his feet, "he didn't."

Ducky entered the room. "Oh dear," he said. "Is this one of the men who tried to kill Tony?"

"Could be," Gibbs said.

"Well, I can't say that I'm sorry he's dead," Ducky replied. "But I suppose it would have been better for him to be alive to tell us who helped him."

"It looks like he put up a fight," Gibbs said. "There could be DNA on his hands, his knuckles are all scraped up."

"I'll have Mr. Palmer bag his hands to keep any evidence from being brushed away," Ducky said.

Gibbs went back into the living room. "Did anyone hear anything?" he asked his subordinates.

"No one hears anything in this neighborhood, Boss," McGee said. "They keep to themselves and don't butt into other people's business. At least, that's what everyone I talked to told me."

Gibbs watched as Jimmy and Ducky wheeled the victim out of the apartment. "Damn it," he growled. "We're getting nowhere. McGee, you and Ziva go pick up Rockwell and bring him to headquarters. Maybe he'll be able to identify Greeley ."

oOoOoOo

I'm bored. Now that I'm calmer, I'm bored out of my freaking mind. I can't watch TV. Well, I suppose I could, if there was a TV in the room and Abby put something interesting on. Abby's been called away to do some tests on stuff they got from a body anyway, so I'm alone for the first time since I got here. I have no idea how long I've been here, other than what Ducky told me. It feels like forever, but he said it's been over thirty-six hours. Gotta be longer than that, though.

To pass the time I try to get some sounds other than grunting out of my mouth. I get frustrated and try to raise my arm and flex my fingers. That's going better than the talking thing. Maybe I'll have a speech impediment. How am I going to work the DiNozzo charm on the ladies if I can't use my mellow voice? Okay, Anthony, don't think that way. You will recover completely. Ducky said you would and you know he wouldn't lie to you. Unless he wanted to spare your feelings. He is a pretty considerate man, very sensitive. It could have been an act of kindness on his part, telling you that you were going to be all right.

Gibbs said that, too, though. Gibbs isn't kind. Okay, he can be nice, but he doesn't like to show that side of him. He said I was going to be fine because that's what he expects of me. I've never let him down yet - at least, I don't think I have.

What movies are there about overcoming handicaps, not that I'm handicapped. I need inspiration. The best is _The Miracle Worker_, the original, not the remake, although the remake wasn't bad. Patty Duke as Helen Keller, and Anne Bancroft as Ann Sullivan - classic. Of course, I'm no Helen Keller. Okay, I know I'm wallowing if I can't even think of good movies to help me through this.

The door opens and a pretty nurse walks in. "It's time for your bath, Agent DiNozzo."

Oh yeah, things are looking up.

oOoOoOo

"It appears that our possible assailant engaged in a fierce battle," Ducky said, pushing his visor up, "and lost when his opponent pumped two bullets into his back."

"Well, yeah, Ducky," Gibbs replied. "I didn't need you to tell me that. Did you get any usable DNA from his hands?"

"Abby is testing the material we sent her," Ducky replied. "Is your witness coming to try to identify the body?" The doors whooshed open and Ziva walked in, followed by Everett Rockwell.

"Mr. Rockwell," Gibbs greeted the other man, "we were just talking about you."

"I knew my ears were burning for a reason," the other man grinned. He looked at the body on the table. "That the guy?"

"Yeah," Gibbs confirmed. "Can you identify him as one of the men you saw the night of the murders?"

Rockwell cocked his head and stared at the body thoughtfully. "Could be," he said. "I can't say for sure, but he could have been one of the guys."

"McGee is searching for any known acquaintances or accomplices," Ziva reported. "He says there's something he'd like you to see."

"Ducky, can you show Mr. Rockwell out?"

"Of course, Jethro," Ducky said in surprise. Gibbs and Ziva had already left the room. "Well, that was strange."

"Mr. Rockwell," he said jovially, "let me walk you to your car."

"Your agents brought me here," Rockwell replied. "I'll catch a cab out front."

"Oh yes," Ducky said. "I'll accompany you to the cab stand, then."

"Were you close to Tony, Doctor Mallard?" Rockwell asked as they headed for the elevator.

"Yes, I was," Ducky said sadly. "He was a good man, an excellent agent. He loved to joke around and make people laugh. He will be missed."

"He was a good guy," Rockwell agreed. "Fun and pretty intelligent. I'd be telling him about an old case of mine and he'd ask questions like he was right there with me – good questions, ones I'd asked at the time. He must have been a good investigator."

"He was deceptively good," Ducky agreed. "He projected an air of casual nonchalance, but he was always taking in things around him and making connections. Special Agent Gibbs lost his right-hand man, his 'second-brain,' if you will. We all lost a good friend."

"It must have been hard," Rockwell said. "Doing the autopsy, I mean, on someone you knew and liked."

"Indeed," Ducky confirmed. "I've done it before, but it never gets easy. It's even harder when you can't find their cause of death."

"He wasn't shot?" Rockwell said in surprise.

"No, but we don't know what killed him, yet," Ducky replied. "We're still waiting for test results." Ducky nodded to the security guards as they passed the front desk.

The two men left the building and walked toward the cab stand on the corner.

"I know what killed him," Rockwell said quietly. Ducky looked at him in surprise. "You do?"

Rockwell opened the cab door, nodding as he got into the car. "You did, Doctor Mallard."

"I did?" Ducky said, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Rockwell opened the window and looked up at the ME. "Tony wasn't dead when you found him," he said, a small smile forming. "All his systems were slowed down, but he was still alive. You killed him, when you cut him open. How does it feel to have killed a friend, Doctor Mallard?" His smile was cold, sending shivers down Ducky's spine. "To cut a living being open while he was still alive and able to feel everything you did to him, but not able to say anything, to scream in pain or beg you to stop? _You_ murdered Tony, not some old enemy or random thug – you." Rockwell murmured something to the driver and the cab took off, leaving Ducky staring after it in shock.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Yes, it was the old "Law and Order Guest Villian" rule of thumb. I was hoping that Rockwell's reason for doing what he did would be a surprise. Ducky is rarely targeted in fic. As always, thank you for your thoughtful reviews. A special thanks to helva2260 for reminding me about the movie The Bone Collector (I've never seen it, but I know the premise). That's a much better movie for Tony to think of, especially with Angelina Jolie in it, and I'll change the story before I post it to my website. FYI, I make corrections pointed out by readers before I post a final final version of a story on my website. Well, not all of what's suggested is used, just corrections to blatant errors._

**Chapter Eight**

"You suspected he had something to do with it?" Ducky's tone was accusing.

Gibbs nodded. "I had a feeling he was involved in some way, but I couldn't be sure. Ziva and McGee are tailing him."

"It was personal, Jethro," Ducky said. "A vendetta against me, and Tony paid the price."

"Tony didn't pay anything, Ducky," Gibbs replied. "He's alive and safe. Rockwell will pay for what he did, he's going away for two murders and the attempted murder of a Federal Agent."

"Here, Doctor Mallard," Jimmy Palmer handed the ME a cup of hot tea. "This will help calm you down."

"Thank you, Mr. Palmer." Ducky gratefully accepted the steaming cup and took a careful sip.

"Did Rockwell look at all familiar to you, Ducky?" Gibbs asked. "Does his name mean anything, spark any memories?"

Ducky shook his head. "I don't think I've ever seen the man in my life, and the name isn't familiar at all."

"It could be an alias," Jimmy said helpfully.

"Gee, thanks Palmer," Gibbs replied, "I never would have thought of that." Jimmy blushed and excused himself.

"He was only trying to help, Jethro," Ducky admonished.

"I know," Gibbs admitted. "I'm on edge. I think I have good reason."

"And Tony's not around to defuse the tension," Ducky said understandingly. "Not to mention the fact that you don't take too kindly to the attempted murder of one of your agents."

"It makes me grumpy," Gibbs said wryly, causing Ducky to chuckle.

"Gibbs! Gibbs!" Abby's voice sounded tinny.

Gibbs walked over to the videophone. "What's up, Abs?"

"I found out who Everett Rockwell really is," she said excitedly.

"We're on our way," Gibbs said, heading for the elevator, followed closely by Ducky. Once in the lab they were greeting by a literally bouncing Abby.

"Meet Eric Carmichael," Abby said proudly, pulling up a photo of the man they had been calling Everett Rockwell. "I matched the prints you got off his water bottle to those of Carmichael."

"He has a record?" Gibbs asked.

Abby shook her head. "No, he really is an ex-cop. He was in the Denver police department for thirty years. His son was murdered, but they had to release the only suspect."

"Stephen Carmichael," Ducky said softly.

"You know the case?" Gibbs asked.

Ducky nodded. "Yes, this was before I joined NCIS. Young Carmichael was killed in a drug buy gone wrong. He had a serious heroin habit and apparently got into an argument with his dealer. In the ensuing fray Stephen was stabbed several times. They had a knife that belonged to the dealer, but during the course of the autopsy I found that the fatal wound was made by a knife that was never found and the wounds made by the dealer's knife were just slashes; painful yes, fatal, no."

"So they had to let the dealer go," Gibbs said.

"Yes," Ducky confirmed. "I never met the Carmichaels, so I would never have recognized Stephen's father. I imagine he blames me for the lack of justice for his son's murder."

"Why would he try to hurt Tony?" Abby asked.

"To make Ducky feel the pain of losing someone he cares about," Gibbs replied.

"Even worse," Ducky added. "To make me be the one responsible for Tony's death."

"Guess what else, Gibbs," Abby turned to Gibbs expectantly.

"Abby," Gibbs rubbed his eyes, "please don't make me play guessing games."

"Okay," Abby said apologetically. "Carmichael's wife, Anita, worked for twenty years at the Downtown Aquarium in Denver. As a marine biologist." She grinned triumphantly at the two men.

Gibbs placed a gentle kiss on her temple. "Good work, Abs."

oOoOoOo

I seem to be sleeping a lot, which annoys me. I want to be working on getting my muscles to respond, not sleeping. I haven't taken so many naps since – well, I was never good at taking naps. My nannies used to try to put me down for one around afternoon tea time, but I never stayed in bed. There was always so much to explore, so many things to see and do. The garden was huge, a veritable jungle. When I was ten I saw _Raiders of the Lost Ark_. The garden became a South American jungle and I was searching for lost Incan treasures, being chased by pygmies. Before that it was the swamp infested by the _Alien Dead_ and I was defending the world from zombies. Or I was time traveling with a group of dwarves searching for treasure.

You learn to make your own fun when there's no one around to play with. I sigh and start moving my feet from side to side. It looks stupid, but hey, they're moving. The door opens and Jimmy Palmer sticks his head in.

"Hey, Tony. Are you up for a visitor?"

I turn my head - this has gotten easier - and grin, waving Jimmy into the room with my right hand. The left hand isn't as strong, but I'm working on it. I'm so happy to see the Autopsy Gremlin I could grab him and kiss him, but I wouldn't want to scare him away.

Jimmy grins at me and comes into the room. He's carrying some stuff; I can't see what it is.

"Abby's stuck in the lab running some tests and McGee and Ziva are off somewhere. Special Agent Gibbs and Doctor Mallard are discussing the case, and they suggested I come see you to keep you company. I know you'd rather have Abby or someone else here..."

I frown and manage to get out a disgruntled huff. Jimmy's not a bad kid; I like him. I don't know if I'd hang out with him, but to be honest; I don't know that much about his private life. For all I know he could be a bigger club hopper than I am.

Nah.

Jimmy looks pleased and ducks his head to hide his smile. "I brought a portable DVD player and some movies. I thought you'd be getting bored and would enjoy watching a movie or two."

I grin at Jimmy and give him a thumbs up. He pulls out a bunch of DVDs.

"I didn't know what you'd want to watch, so I got a selection of the latest releases. I have _Flyboys, The Guardian, The Illusionist, The Night Listener, Snakes on a Plane_ and _My Super Ex-Girlfriend_."

He looks at me expectantly. I'm actually pretty impressed by his selection. I've seen all of those movies at the theater, but I wouldn't mind seeing them all again. I point to _Snakes on a Plane_ and Jimmy grins.

"I've been wanting to see that movie. I love Samuel L. Jackson. Here, let me sit you up a little more." He presses the button that raises the head of my bed until I'm in more of a sitting position. Then he wheels the bedside tray and places it over me, but far enough down so I'm not crossing my eyes watching the screen.

"Is that okay?" I signal yes and he queues up the movie.

"Oh, the doctor said you're allowed to eat and drink, but keep the food soft so I brought some pudding. Is that okay?"

Is that okay? I want to marry Jimmy. I grin enthusiastically at him and make 'give it here' motions. He grins back and opens a chocolate pudding container. He carefully sets the container in my left hand and places the spoon in my right. Smart kid, he noticed I use my right hand more. The pudding is deliciously smooth and chocolately and I moan in ecstasy.

Jimmy starts the movie and pulls up a chair next to the bed, settling himself comfortably as the opening scene starts to play.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

"What's going on, McGee?" Gibbs didn't bother to wait for McGee to say hello when he answered his cell phone.

"Rockwell didn't go back to his apartment," McGee reported. "He went to the Patriot Motel in Arlington, Room 412. He must have already checked in, or he's meeting someone there. He didn't stop at the front desk."

"Find out who's checked into that room," Gibbs replied. "Then wait until I get there."

"Right, Boss."

Gibbs pulled up a half an hour later. He was met by McGee and Ziva.

"The name on the registry is Anita Carmichael. She checked in over a month ago. The desk clerk says she seems nice, quiet, doesn't cause any trouble," McGee reported.

"Girlfriend? Sister?" Ziva asked Gibbs.

"Wife," Gibbs replied. "Rockwell's real name is Eric Carmichael. His son was murdered about fifteen years ago and Ducky was the ME who cleared the suspected killer."

"He's out for revenge?" McGee asked. "After so long?"

"Uh huh," Gibbs replied, heading to Room 412.

"How does Tony being poisoned fit into all this?" Ziva asked.

"We suspect Carmichael wanted Ducky to lose someone he cared about," Gibbs replied.

"Why Tony?" McGee asked.

"We'll find out." Gibbs knocked loudly. A woman in her mid sixties opened the door. "Yes?" she asked politely.

"Mrs. Carmichael?" Gibbs said, holding up his badge and ID. "Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. May we come in?"

"May I ask what this is regarding, Special Agent Gibbs?"

"Let 'em in, Nita," a voice boomed from inside the room. She stepped aside and motioned the agents into the room.

"You had me followed, huh?" Carmichael grinned up at the senior agent. "What made you suspect me?"

"The questions you asked about Tony," Gibbs replied. "The way you asked them. Then, of course, there was the confession to Doctor Mallard."

"I didn't confess to anything," Carmichael replied calmly. "I just gave him a possible scenario of what happened to Tony."

"Pretty damn accurate scenario," Gibbs replied. "And you're right, you didn't confess to anything. You don't have to. We have the evidence that will convict you for the murder of David Greeley. We matched DNA from your water bottle to the DNA on his hands," he said in response to a flash of surprise on Carmichael's face. "You played it cool in Autopsy, I almost believed you had never seen Greeley before. Since this is a civilian matter, the local police are on their way to arrest you."

"Eric?" Anita put her hand on her husband's shoulder.

"It's okay, Nita," he said, patting her hand. "We got what we wanted."

"Why Tony?" Gibbs asked.

Carmichael shrugged. "Luck of the draw. I could have just as easily moved in down the hall from this guy here," he said, pointing to McGee. "Or down the street from you. It just had to be someone that Doctor Mallard worked with, someone he cared about or felt close to. His mother was too easy a target, plus I would never hurt a woman."

"How gallant of you," Ziva observed wryly.

"And everything you said about Tony," Gibbs prompted. "How he was a good investigator and a good person..."

"All true," Carmichael replied casually. "I liked him. I was sorry to have to do what I did to him, but I didn't kill him. Mallard did." He grinned up at Gibbs.

"No," Gibbs replied, "he didn't. Doctor Mallard spotted a sign that Tony was still alive while he was still in the apartment. We just made it seem as if Tony had died, to keep him safe from further attempts."

Carmichael looked surprised. "Tony's alive?" he said.

"Yes," Gibbs replied. "I'm going to have to take your wife in for questioning. I'll probably have to arrest her for the attempted murder of a Federal Agent."

"Eric?" Anita looked at her husband, her eyes wide with fright.

"She didn't have anything to do with that," Carmichael said loudly. "She didn't know why I wanted that toxin."

"She just handed you a dangerous substance, no questions asked?" Ziva asked doubtfully.

"Yes," he replied. "That's how our marriage works. We trust each other. She didn't have any idea what I was going to do with the stuff."

"What did you do with it, honey?" Anita asked anxiously.

"Nothing, dear," he replied soothingly. "You don't need to know anything more about this."

As the local police officers were taking Carmichael away he turned to Gibbs and said, "Tell Tony it was nothing personal."

"I'm sure that will make all the difference to him," Gibbs replied with a derisive snort.

oOoOoOo

I can't believe I'm finally home. It seems like years, but here I am, in my own living room, sitting on my sofa in front of my fifty-four inch plasma TV, watching... well, not really watching anything right now. I'm just reveling in the warmth of my own home.

It took me about a week to recover from the effects of the toxin Everett, I mean Eric Carmichael, injected me with. I still can't believe what happened. I thought he was a great guy; we had some pretty pleasant talks over pizza and beer. But he set me up to be dissected by Ducky, just so Ducky would be responsible for my death. Pretty cold.

Camichael planned things pretty carefully. He and Greeley acted like they were friends and Greeley visited him a lot, so even if he was spotted on a security tape he would be dismissed as a friend of a resident. I'm not sure how they knew I was ordering pizza that night, but because I do it pretty often they probably didn't have to wait long. I didn't get a good look at either of them when they pushed into my place, so I had no idea one of the guys was my neighbor. Carmichael had added another substance to the Tetro, Tetra ... the puffer fish poison to enhance the initial effects. Abby told me what it was, but there's no way that name would stick in my head. Whatever it was, it worked its way out of my system almost immediately. I guess that's why I went from "dead" to moving around in such a short amount of time, relatively speaking

Carmichael didn't seem like the type to befriend someone in order to have them killed, or to actually kill in cold blood. He said that Greeley killed the pizza delivery kid. We'll never know the truth of that, but there's no doubt that he killed Greeley. With that hanging over his head, and his confession of what he did to me, he's looking at spending the rest of his life in prison. He officially denied his wife had any knowledge of his intent for the poison, so she won't be charged as an accessory to the attempted murder of a Federal Agent. So Anita Carmichael loses a son and then her husband. Hopefully she can make a life for herself. I'd hate to have her go after Ducky or Gibbs. Or me.

I had a heart-to-heart with Ducky. He kept apologizing for stabbing me in the stomach and almost cutting me open. Even though I told him it was okay, that I didn't blame him for anything, I could see he wasn't going to forgive himself so easily. One evening, before I was discharged, he thought I looked feverish and wanted to check my temperature. When I told him to please use a thermometer, he looked shocked, then started laughing. I think he'll be okay.

I wanted to talk to Gibbs about what he said in my apartment, but you don't really have a heart-to-heart with him. So I hemmed and hawed, and he glowered and huffed, and I think in between all the macho 'guys don't talk about things like this' posturing, we came to an agreement of some sort without actually saying anything. So he grinned and cuffed me in the head and I pretended to not understand why he smacked me, and that was that.

The doorbell rings and I push up from the sofa to answer the door. Abby breezes into the room followed by a package-laden Gibbs.

"We brought all sorts of take-out food, Tony," Abby says cheerfully. "We couldn't decide what you would want so we decided to bring you some of everything."

"Abby decided to bring you some of everything," Gibbs contradicts grumpily. "I just wanted to grab a pizza."

"Tony eats more pizza than any human being should," Abby says, ignoring the annoyed looks Gibbs is shooting her. "So we have Chinese and Thai, which are kinda alike, but still good; we've got Mexican and some fried chicken..."

The doorbell interrupts her recitation of the menu and I go to let in McGee and Ziva, followed closely by Ducky and Palmer, each group bringing even more food.

"There's enough here to feed an army," I declare.

"That should keep you fed for about two days," Gibbs says, grinning at me as he helps unpack the mountains of food.

I grin back at him. Looking around at my friends I'm struck by an overwhelming feeling of happiness. I'm home and I'm surrounded by people that care about me. That's not something I ever thought I'd have.

"Don't just stand there gawking," Gibbs says gruffly. "Get some plates or something." He goes to smack my head, but ends up clapping my shoulder and giving it a squeeze instead.

"Right, Boss," and I go to the kitchen to grab some plates.


End file.
